


Heart in a Pocket

by KasmiKassim



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Shrinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-06-05 11:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15169856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasmiKassim/pseuds/KasmiKassim
Summary: Apparently Shoma has a secret. Which is fine. Yuzu is more than ready to help protect it.What is less than fine is how this forces him to address a few secrets of his own.Really, this is all Shoma's fault for being adorable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually a spur-of-the-moment fluff piece as a response to one of my reviewers talking about wanting to put Shoma in a pocket. I took the idea and ran with it because I needed a break from my much heavier WIP and I take feedback seriously (!).

**Disclaimer** : In case the magical realism doesn’t give it away, this story is completely fictional. Its characters are inspired by select characteristics of real people that have been interpreted to the author’s liking. 

**Heart in a Pocket**

**Part 1**

Yuzu doesn’t worry when Keiji tells him that Shoma’s not at practice. He’s probably sleeping in. Or missed his bus. Someone will have contacted him by now.

But when he finds Keiji still fidgeting with his phone thirty minutes into choreo, he gets curious. He accompanies Keiji back to the hotel, if only to see Shoma’s sleepy eyes and bedhead.

Keiji swears up and down that he’s going to give Shoma a good beating for this trouble, and Yuzu chuckles through it. Keiji’s idea of beatings is ruffling Shoma’s hair and making angry noises that sound closer to cooing noises while Shoma squirms and laughs. He can’t blame Keiji though, because Yuzu will likely stand there and watch with a stupid grin, and maybe tease him about posture or something. Shoma is still not entirely comfortable with Yuzu – he seems awed and a little intimidated no matter how many times Yuzu encourages him to be casual with him – so approaching him is a cautious, calculated thing. Give him just enough space not to scare him, bring up a subject they’re both familiar with, make a fool out of himself. Make him laugh, watch and revel in it a bit, throw out another joke. Stick to his side throughout whatever event they’re in so Shoma forgets to put his guard up, let him ease into his presence.

It’s all a very well thought-out plan.

It goes awry when Keiji turns up looking worried. “He’s not answering.”

Yuzu takes his eyes off of his phone game, follows Keiji away from the elevator to Shoma’s room. He knocks.

“Shoma?” he calls. “Shoma, are you in there?”

Keiji starts to look panicked, probably from flashbacks of the one time Shoma took the wrong bus and ended up in a different city without a phone or a wallet on him. Keiji goes downstairs to talk to the front desk about calling Shoma’s hotel phone.

Yuzu wanders slowly through the hallway, looking at every door. The whole floor is taken by the tour group, and he has memorized which room belongs to who. He goes about knocking on every door just in case, because Shoma might have wandered into the wrong room and fallen asleep.

He reaches his room. He opens it with a sigh, and hears a little squeak.

…rats in hotels. Oh god.

He looks around in alarm. The squeak repeats near his foot. He jumps, and a little thing jumps on the floor with him. He glues himself to the wall.

It’s a little creature. Waving its arms. It’s colorful. It’s… standing on its hind legs.

It’s Shoma.

He’s small enough to fit in the palm of Yuzu’s hand.

Yuzu closes his eyes. Opens them.

He’s still there.

“I’m gonna pass out,” he warns, “and if you don’t move, you’ll get crushed.”

Shoma scrambles away. Yuzu makes it to his bed just in case.

,

,

“It doesn’t happen often,” Shoma explains, sitting on Yuzu’s tissue box. It looks like a bed under him. Yuzu hunches over the bedside table, listening intently, because Shoma’s voice has shrunk in accordance to his size and he is not a shouty person to begin with. “Only when I can’t deal with things.”

“So you…become smaller? So that everything becomes overwhelmingly huge?” Yuzu says, hushed so that it doesn’t overwhelm Shoma’s hearing.

Shoma puts his face into his hands. He looks frustrated, but strangely, he doesn’t look as panicked as Yuzu is feeling. He looks normal; wearing training clothes, hair clean, looking as if he had been prepared to show up for rehearsal. And probably was, before this…thing happened.

“I don’t get to control it,” Shoma says. “I just… feel, small? Like I want to hide. You know, sometimes you just can’t deal with the world?”

Yuzu nods. He understands the feeling.

“But for me, it becomes real. I literally shrink. And I…don’t change back until I’m ready to face the world again.”

Yuzu thinks. He shakes his head. “Sorry, but I.” He thinks some more. Looks at Shoma, and Shoma nods, encouraging him to continue. “I don’t see how being tiny helps you feel ready to take on the world,” Yuzu says, as quietly as he can.

Shoma thinks about it. He is chewing on his lip, and Yuzu wishes he could reach out and remove that lip from between his teeth, but his fingertip is almost the size of Shoma’s face, so he keeps still.

“I guess a part of it is obligation,” Shoma says at last. “I know I have to go back to being responsible, and the worry that things will come apart in my absence overpowers my desire to hide away?”

Yuzu nods carefully. It’s a brave thing, he thinks. Forcing himself to be strong for other people.

“Or maybe,” Shoma says, “a part of it is that my usual size is so huge compared to my tiny size, so it feels empowering to go back.”

Yuzu watches Shoma. He has so many questions, and a lot of time, because he had called Mihoko to report his findings and she had laughed – laughed! – and asked him to take good care of Shoma. Promising to tell the others that he was on vacation and forgot to tell people. Keiji had grumbled in good humor, looking relieved, when Yuzu called to relay Mihoko’s script.

“Don’t you want to tell Keiji?” he says. “He was worried about you.”

Shoma looks guilty. “I don’t… I mean, the fewer people know, the better. It’s… private.”

“Oh.” Yuzu now feels guilty. “I’m sorry.”

Shoma looks up curiously, tilts his head. Yuzu’s heart does a weird flip. “Why?”

“I mean.” Yuzu waves a little at Shoma, creating enough draft to blow hair into his eyes. Shoma blinks adorably. “I’m sure you didn’t want me to know about this either.”

Shoma shrugs a little. “It is what it is. Just don’t tell anyone.”

He…deals with it with much more grace than Yuzu could imagine for himself. Yuzu smiles, a little bit in awe. Shoma blinks at him.

“You’re adorable, you know.”

Shoma makes a face. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to say something like that.”

“I can’t help it!” Yuzu laughs. “You’re already small and cute and now you’re literally pocket sized!”

“I hope you’re not planning on putting me in a pocket.” Shoma watches Yuzu’s face shift, and narrows his eyes. “Oh no, Yuzu, don’t tell me I put that idea in your head.”

Yuzu sits back to protect Shoma’s hearing and cackles into the air.

Shoma blushes. It’s a tiny adorable blush and Yuzu doesn’t know what to do with the fluttering of his chest. The best part of it is how easily Shoma is able to joke wryly about this terrifying situation. How easily he talks to him. He’d spent years trying to build a friendship with Shoma, but now that he’s literally tiny and at his mercy, Shoma is talking to him as if he’s not afraid at all.

Yuzu wonders how bad of a person he is for briefly wishing that Shoma could be like this all the time.

“Can I feed you?” he asks, managing to rein in a chuckle, and Shoma eyes him warily.

“Are you gonna get me a hamster cage too?”

Yuzu laughs.

He rushes downstairs to the café where they have sample cups made of thin paper. He grabs a few and rushes back up to his room, where Shoma blinks at him. He puts down a cup filled with water.

“I have to go to practice,” Yuzu says, “but I’ll be back soon. Is there anything else you need?”

Shoma takes the paper cup between his hands, and it’s bigger than his head. Yuzu admires how bravely Shoma chugs down water from something literally bucket sized.

Then a thought hits him. “Oh. Hey. How do you use bathrooms in times like this?”

Shoma blushes. “I, uh.” He fiddles with his sleeves, which are, even in their tiny state, still too long for him. “It usually happens in my own space, so I have… stuff around. I can climb up to the toilet as long as I have a book or something nearby to climb on.”

Oh. Maybe that’s why his things were always strewn all over the floor, so he could reach. There was method to his madness.

Yuzu nods, not wanting to embarrass him further. “Shall I get you some?”

Shoma nods. Yuzu returns after putting up the toilet seat for safety and placing a stack of books near the toilet, and changes the subject.

“So! What do you wanna eat?”

Shoma blinks at him. “…oh.”

“What do you mean, oh?” Yuzu frowns. “Do you not eat when this happens?”

“Well…it usually doesn’t last longer than a few hours.” Shoma looks uneasy for the first time. “Time feels … quicker? Longer. When you’re small.”

Yuzu nods. He remembers the rabbits from a pet shop he’d once passed, how quickly their hearts beat against his chest when he had held them.

“Oh no.” He sits up in sudden alarm. “Does this cut down your lifespan?” Because fast-breathing animals like bees and rabbits die faster, right?

Shoma looks at Yuzu, unease melting into laughter. “It’s only a few hours of my regular life, Yuzu. I’m sure I’m fine.”

“Oh.” Yuzu slumps in relief, and he doesn’t care that Shoma laughs at him. He likes the laugh. Shoma should laugh more often.

It’s a good thing that the bedside table is stuck to the beds, because Shoma easily steps off of it to lounge on the empty bed that Yuzu isn’t using. Yuzu constructs a little pillow out of a hankerchief, and folds up a clean shirt from his stash for Shoma to use as a blanket. He secretly hopes that it’s free of his scent, because who knows how much sharper Shoma’s senses are compared to Yuzu’s relatively enlarged sweat glands. He sweats a little to think about it.

“Are you sure you don’t want something made of a towel?”

Shoma thinks about it. “A towel isn’t very soft.”

Yuzu bites down a smile.

He likes using his hands. He has delicate fingers, and he uses them well to craft expressions and make images. He is more thankful than ever for them as he shuffles and folds his old shirt into a neat little pile, and his heart does a little squirmy thing when he sees Shoma crawl under it and roll up like a burrito.

“You won’t get any smaller, right?”

Shoma laughs. “I’ll be here. Go practice, Yuzu.”

Yuzu runs.

He leaves rehearsal early, and no one questions him because it’s only the beginning days of the tour and half the cast still hasn’t arrived yet anyway. No one really questions Shoma’s taking a vacation while Mihoko hangs around nearby with the other coaches, apparently way too comfortable with the situation to even take up Yuzu’s offer to take him to her room.

“I think you’ll be better for him than me,” she laughs, and Yuzu doesn’t know what to say to that except head back to the hotel with a little flip in his stomach.

He looks up a trinket shop on his way back, and buys a little set of doll things. Small chopsticks, plates, mugs. A tiny table, a chair, and a bed. He makes sure to choose the expensive set with real pillows and blankets, soft and fluffy to the touch, instead of the candy colored plastic ones. Then he stops by a restaurant and orders a child-sized ground beef and white rice to go, adding a tofu dish for himself.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you,” Shoma says as Yuzu happily unloads his haul. He is back on the bedside table, perched on the miniature chair, as Yuzu takes his spoon and crushes the rice and meat into tiny bits and places them on the miniature plates and brings him water in the tiny mug. He’s even washed all the utensils with the bathroom soap before giving them to Shoma.

“I played house with my older sister a lot when I was young.” Yuzu grins. “I am the master of miniature domestic chores.”

Shoma rolls his eyes.

Yuzu lies on his belly on the bed and eats off of the same bedside table Shoma is on. He wants to be able to see Shoma well, and going to his own desk to eat won’t let him do that. Shoma looks down and eats without a word, but at last looks up to pierce Yuzu with a knowing stare.

“Having fun?” he says wryly.

Yuzu hides his smile under a pillow. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

Yuzu hesitates.

“It’s okay.” Shoma chews. “I don’t mind.”

“You…don’t?”

Shoma stuffs his face. “Someone having fun out of this is better than everyone being miserable.”

It’s…such an amazingly simple yet brave concept that it takes Yuzu’s breath away a little. And preemptively taking away his guilt like that too. Shoma is very generous, Yuzu thinks. His chest does another little flip as Shoma focuses on eating, as if he’s having any ordinary dinner.

Shoma thanks him when he finishes, and Yuzu takes his tiny utensils and washes them in the bathroom with soap. Laying them out to dry, he feels strangely warm inside. Like he’s taking care of Shoma, but not in the usual way of picking on his hair and waking him up. He’s completely responsible for him. Shoma, completely trusting him to take care of him in this little world. It makes him giddy and feel impossibly huge.

It also makes him feel strangely vulnerable and tender, because Shoma’s taking this situation is so much more adult than Yuzu’s would be, and he is in awe and doesn’t feel like a powerful senpai at all anymore.

He worries that Shoma will be bored without his phone, but Shoma seems content to perch in the empty bed and watch the hotel TV. “It’s like a huge movie screen,” he laughs, and Yuzu lays out the remote control in front of him so Shoma can crawl over and push the buttons with his entire hand when he wants to change channels. Yuzu puts on one earphone, just in case Shoma starts talking, and lies on his belly on his bed.

“What are you doing?” Shoma looks over.

“Just listening to music.”

“I thought you played games a lot?”

“Well, yeah. That too.”

He doesn’t want to be too engrossed in something that might make him miss something if Shoma shows any changes. Yuzu is still nervous about this whole… tiny human thing.

So Yuzu half-listens to the music and half-watches TV with Shoma, occasionally talking over the sounds.

“Do you think you’ll change back overnight?” he asks.

Shoma shrugs. “I hope so.”

The answer makes him strangely disappointed. Yuzu tries to ignore the feeling.

“So if you haven’t changed back…it means you’re not ready, right?”

Shoma doesn’t look at him. “More or less.”

Yuzu watches him. He has forgotten, swept up in the bravery that Shoma had put up, that this is still shy, introverted Shoma. Who panics and freezes when a camera is shoved in his face. He wonders how much Shoma is holding himself together right now for Yuzu’s sake. The thought makes him feel warm, like pudding, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that. He usually deals with his overflowing emotions by loudly singing, listening to loud music, or obnoxiously talking, dancing, or skating, or running. He wonders how Shoma keeps his emotions under so much control. He’s seen them on the ice, and boy, did he see them. If Yuzu is a constant flow of energy that manages to focus on the ice, Shoma is a silent undercurrent that explodes onto the ice. He voices this question.

“It’s not really a struggle,” Shoma says, thinking. He slowly articulates his words, unlike Yuzu, who goes on and on until he can come to a reasonable conclusion. “Most of the time, I don’t really react strongly to things as you do. It could just be a physical thing.”

Yuzu hums. He is a wiry person, flexible and ever-shifting, humming with energy, and Shoma could be onto something. He’s solid and steady, and maybe that also translates to emotional steadiness. It makes it even more amazing that he has such depth of emotion that comes out during his performances. Perhaps such steadiness allows emotions to take deeper root, take longer to transform, into something transcendent and beautiful.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” Yuzu says quietly, “when you let your emotions show.”

Shoma slowly blinks at the TV. “…thanks.”

Yuzu knows this face. He’s seen it at interviews. The stoic mask over deathly embarrassment. He laughs. Maybe Shoma thought he was talking about his face, instead of his performances. He doesn’t have the heart to correct himself though. Because Shoma is beautiful with or without the ice, and that’s the truth too.

It’s just a truth he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge, because he was such a shy little boy who was intimidated by him and that … would be wrong.

“I’ve been trying,” Shoma murmurs, looking down, “I’ve been trying to…control this. The shrinking thing.”

“Oh?”

Shoma struggles with the words. Yuzu realizes that he’s trying to share a part of himself, offer up something vulnerable in return, in response to Yuzu’s words. His chest feels punched out, breathless with tenderness.

“I… try to tell myself that it’s no big deal, no one’s really looking. You know?” He laughs a little to himself, and it’s such a weak, helpless thing that Yuzu immediately wants to put a hand on his shoulder, provide him an anchor. “I mean, it’s okay when I’m competing internationally. Or performing in front of strangers. They’re just faceless crowds. But in small crowds…”

“I know exactly what you mean!” Yuzu sits up. “I get so nervous in small town performances!”

Shoma nods. “And you still manage to deal with it. But I… I become this.” He waves at himself, and there is deprecation there, and Yuzu doesn’t like this at all. He reaches out with a finger upturned, and knows it looks ridiculous, but looks at Shoma earnestly and hopes. Shoma, kind Shoma, slowly rests his hand on his finger. Yuzu brings a thumb over his hand and squeezes, just the tiniest bit.

“We all have our ways,” Yuzu says with the gentlest voice he can muster. “I get clammy hands, and I puke, and I get diarrhea. I’m a mess.” He looks at Shoma’s lip, bitten between his teeth. “And I… don’t think your way is any weirder? I mean, obviously it’s not … common. But I don’t think it’s lesser. You know what I mean?” He smiles. “You deal with it with a lot more calm than I would have. I’d be a screaming ball of tears right now.”

Shoma looks down at his hand, held between what must be two giant, wrinkly fingers. “I didn’t deal with it very well at first,” he admits.

“But you’ve gotten so much better!” Yuzu breaks into a laugh. “Now that’s strength of character.”

Shoma looks up, smiles a bit, and he looks like a lost little boy and Yuzu doesn’t know what to do. He squeezes again, and Shoma’s face shifts. Probably because he saw what Yuzu was doing with his face, which was…just following the flipping around in his chest.

He lets go.

“Anyway!” he flops onto his back and grins at Shoma. “It works out for me. I get to pamper you all by myself instead of having to fight over you with Keiji or Alex or Scott or-”

Shoma scrunches up his nose. “You just want to put me in a pocket.”

“I would, if you let me,” Yuzu says between laughs, “but I’m content with what I have.”

Shoma looks down, face red.

It’s a strange feeling. With him so small, Yuzu feels like he’s gotten a glimpse of something inside that is much older and bigger than what he had known. But he’s…tiny, so that makes it also weird. He only hopes that whatever he saw of Shoma today stays throughout their future interactions.

“Hey.” He remembers. Frowns. “Why were you in my room?”

Shoma goes still.

“I mean, I don’t mind,” Yuzu hastes. “I really don’t. I’m just curious. How did you make your way in here?”

Shoma fiddles with his hands. “I…don’t do it consciously.”

“Okay?”

“When I feel…like that,” Shoma breathes a little, “I intuitively...feel it coming? Which is why I usually end up in a safe space. It’s usually in Coach Mihoko’s room, or sometimes mine, when it’s not too bad and I feel like I can handle it alone.” He glances at Yuzu. “I didn’t…realize I was in your room. My thought process doesn’t work right, when it happens. I… think you left your door open.”

Oh.

Yuzu’s grin slowly creeps up his face. Shoma determinedly looks away. Yuzu wants to grab his hand. Shoma had shrunk in his room. Because he felt safe in it. He wants to laugh and shout and dance.

He’s…okay, he’s smitten. He’ll admit it. He just won’t look closely at whether he’s smitten with how cute baby Shoma is, or …

Or.

He clears his throat. “Can I get anything for you? Need any help with anything?”

Shoma looks down at himself. “I guess if I don’t change back soon, I’ll be going to bed without brushing my teeth.”

Yuzu thinks about it. “Just one night can’t hurt that bad. I’ll give you a piece of floss string? I get the super thin kind.”

Shoma nods, looking embarrassed.

“Will I see a stubble tomorrow morning?” Yuzu grins. Shoma scowls.

“No.”

“Aw.”

“Do you want to?” Shoma looks at him strangely.

“Well, no, your baby image and all. But I’m curious.” He grins obnoxiously at Shoma, who scowls deeper. “Wanna see how many different looks I get to see.”

“I shouldn’t have come to your room,” Shoma grumbles, and Yuzu laughs. Then he sits up.

“Oh my god! I should have bought doll clothes!”

Shoma wraps himself up in Yuzu’s shirt and determinedly plops down, facing away. “I hate you.”

Yuzu laughs and laughs.

His concern about getting Shoma doll clothes transforms into something of a real agenda though, because he finds that Shoma tugs off his clothes throughout the night. Yuzu learns this because he stays awake longer than usual, unable to fall asleep, and watches. For some reason, Shoma had refused the doll bed and pillow and blanket, opting to use Yuzu’s other bed and his shirt and the handkerchief pillow.

Yuzu squints as Shoma mumbles something and turns, facing him. He looks so peaceful. Like the baby Shoma that he’s always known.

But he has nerves of steel, doesn’t he.

Yuzu gets up from his bed and tiptoes to Shoma’s, and picks up the tiny shirt that had slipped off. He places it on the beside table, and he’s just right there, so he stands there a bit longer, watching.

He’s a beautiful boy.

He sighs at himself, reminds himself to be a responsible senior, and goes back to bed. He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time.

 

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**Heart in a Pocket**

**Part 2**

Yuzu wakes up late.

He looks at his other bed, dreamily happy, and then the memories flood in. He sits up bolt quick.

Swathed in his old shirt is still tiny Shoma, sleeping on his other bed.

Yuzu glances up at the clock, looks down at his phone, and then looks outside, just in case he’s in some kind of time loop or the magic had been infectious or he’d gone mad.

Shoma blearily raises his head. “Hrgh?” he mumbles.

Yuzu hastily comes to kneel by Shoma’s bed. He wants to bend over and peer at him closely, but he knows that Shoma, more than any other person he knows, values personal space. A quiet place and time to think, process what happened, evaluate how he feels and what he thinks of the situation, before moving forward. And after all that is done, he always moves forward with the best decision.

It just becomes a problem when he’s trying to move through everyday life decisions that require him to focus on more than one thing at a time, like thinking and walking at once.

It wouldn’t be so bad, to be there for him in those moments too. Help him even outside of –

Okay, time to u-turn from that thought.

He watches, torn, as sunlight flits through Shoma’s eyelashes. They flutter open, and Shoma looks at him with sleepy eyes, open with trust. Yuzu cracks an uncertain smile. “Hi.”

Shoma sits up, and sleep clears from his eyes in no time. “Oh.” He looks at Yuzu, looks at his own hands, and doesn’t look back up. Yuzu holds his breath, waits for Shoma to process it all. He hopes it’s not any negative emotion. Unlike Yuzu, who sometimes needs intervention before he can spiral too far into negative what-ifs and despair, Shoma seems to always have a way of coming out of his thoughts with a positive plan of action. He hopes this still holds true in this terrifying moment of realizing that the spell didn’t break.

Shoma finally looks up, shoulders squared. “Get Coach Mihoko for me?”

Yuzu has never run so fast.

,

,

When Mihoko arrives at Yuzu’s door, she turns to him. “Can we be alone, please? After the initial moment.”

“Oh.” Yuzu quickly waves toward the hallway. “It’s fine, I can leave now..? I’ve got breakfast to catch anyway.”

“No, no, please do enter with me.” She smiles. “And leave after the initial moment.”

Yuzu wonders if he actually is going mad after all.

But he obeys, and enters the room ahead of Mihoko as she requests. “Shoma, your coach is here.” He stands aside, watches as Shoma draws himself up. Mihoko approaches him with a smile that could melt the Arctic ice caps.

“Shoma!” she leans forward, rests her hand palm down by Shoma. He slumps against it, leaning his face into her skin. She glances back at Yuzu. This is his cue.

He leaves.

,

,

Mihoko comes to find him at the breakfast room. “Shoma said you brought him food last night, so I heated that up and gave him breakfast.”

“Thank you,” he says, feeling dazed.

She sits and looks at him with a thoughtful smile. He looks at her, chews, and waits.

She raises a brow. “What do you want to know?”

“Shoma told me most of the stuff, I think,” he says carefully. “I just don’t understand.”

She looks into a distance, tapping a finger on the table. The way she squints and tilts her head reminds Yuzu of Shoma when he’s trying to organize his thoughts.

“When I was seven,” she says hesitantly, “we moved into a house that had a little girl in the bathroom. She was always there, keeping me company. I thought we were friends. She was nice.”

A chill slices his spine.

She looks at him gravely. “I think I always knew that it was just a façade, though. I left for college, and brought a friend to help me pack. He used the bathroom and then came out looking like…well, like he’d seen a ghost.” She smiles. “She was apparently very angry that I had left.”

Yuzu stares at her, skin prickling. She laughs and wraps her warm hand over his. “I’m just saying,” she says in a low voice, like a secret, “there are things in the world that simply can’t be explained. Right?”

“Sure.” He’ll take tiny Shoma over terrifying little girls in bathrooms any day.

“But you’re worried, though.”

Well, that’s a given. “I mean… he said it always ends in a few hours. It’s been almost a whole day.”

She hums. “Maybe he’s just not ready yet.”

She seems unnervingly flippant about this whole situation. He can’t push down the curiosity any further. “Can I ask? Why he..?”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s many things. Pressure, criticism, haters online, who knows. People that expect too much of him. You know how much he hates being noticed.”

Yuzu nods. He may be more sensitive and self-aware about other people’s opinions, but he’s also born for attention. He can only imagine how exhausting it can get for someone like Shoma, who likes to keep his cards close to his chest, to be constantly thrust under media spotlight just by virtue of doing his job.

Mihoko looks at him, speculating. “There have been some stalkers.” She lowers her voice. “He …struggles when he sees the ugly side of human nature.”

“…he assumes that everyone is kind because he is.”

“See, I knew you’d get it.” She claps his shoulder and stands. “I’ve put in a word about his absence, so don’t worry about that. And you know he feels safe enough with you, so…if you don’t mind taking care of him some more…”

“Of course,” he says hurriedly. He feels strangely honored. Suck it, Keiji.

She nods at him, turns curtly away.

“Wait,” he blurts. He stands, and half the cafeteria is looking at him. Oops.

Mihoko trails back to him, deftly avoiding the tables. “What is it?”

He wonders if he can ask. It’s private, even more private than the transformation itself. The fact that has been pulsing before his face like a giant heartbeat, terrifying and impossible to ignore.

“Why me?” he whispers.

Mihoko opens her mouth, looks around, closes it. She smiles, and there it is, the taut lines around her eyes that show that she’s wearing a careful mask over her smile. The mask that Shoma wears when he bows and politely stands out of the way. Yuzu kind of hates it. Because it’s not a mask that Shoma wears for his own sake. He wears it for others. To make other people comfortable, he smoothens his face, puts on a stiff smile, bows, and hides behind his hair.

He adopted that disaster of a hairstyle so that he can hide behind it, didn’t he.

Mihoko gently grasps his arm. “I can’t say.” Her smile is almost apologetic. “You’ve already seen too much of him without permission.”

Yuzu nods numbly.

It doesn’t make sense, he realizes, after she leaves and he’s left standing stupidly in the cafeteria and a sleepy Keiji bumps into him. If Shoma wants to keep more secrets, why doesn’t he move to Mihoko’s room?

Or had he asked, and had she refused?

He tries to shake that thought. Mihoko would never refuse anything Shoma wants. Because Shoma does not ask for trivial things or get hung up on stupid details to get stubborn about. He takes most things in stride; he doesn’t even blink when his time zone or location changes. His center is always anchored sure.

So why?

Yuzu wants to speculate on it, but it already feels terrifyingly close to his heart again, as if he’s a tiny person standing in front of his thudding heart and being forced to stare up at it. Unable to plug his ears or look away, see a truth that could be either beautiful or ugly, depending.

Besides, it’s private. He can’t spend time speculating. Shoma’s reasons are his own. Yuzu has to respect that privacy. He hurries to practice.

,

,

When they break for lunch, he picks up fresh food, thinks about it, and stops by a boba shop for a sweet drink. The drink is sweating in his hands, chilling his fingers, as he carries the load into his room, quietly as to avoid hurting Shoma’s hearing.

Shoma is asleep again, wrapped up in a shirt burrito. Yuzu soundlessly puts the things down, wipes his wet fingers and wipes down the chilled cup, and sits on his bed to watch.

How terrifying it must be, he thinks. He didn’t properly appreciate it last night because he was busy panicking and Shoma had put up a brave front for him. But he should have remembered that Shoma needed someone who truly understands. He wonders how much Shoma allowed himself to fall apart in front of the one person he trusts most.

He knows it’s something he can’t be jealous of, but he wishes more than anything at that moment that he could be someone who could protect him, curl around Shoma and shield him from the world, from all the fears and cruelty that attack from without and eat at him from within.

He quietly pours the boba into a miniature cup, puts the food into the tiny plates and sets up the utensils, writes a message on the hotel notepad, and places his phone by Shoma. He leaves for rehearsal.

,

,

Shoma is awake when he returns in time for dinner. “You didn’t have to get me new food, you know,” he says. “I don’t mind eating the same thing.”

Yuzu ignores the words out of his mouth and goes straight to where Shoma is sitting on the bed, playing with Yuzu’s phone. It’s…bigger than Shoma. Shoma is having fun with it though, his arms flying over the screen as he plays the game.

Yuzu laughs, chest flooding with warm relief.

“Sleep well?”

Shoma nods. “And ate well too, and drank well, and.” He eyes the empty cup at his side. “Thank you,” he adds, and Yuzu hears how he fights the shyness in his voice.

“Your coach gave me access to your room, so I brought your things.” He places Shoma’s phone in front of him and plugs it into a charger. He turns on the TV too, just in case being so close to the phone screen gets to be too much, and Shoma goes back and forth between the two screens while Yuzu does the same with his own phone in his bed. They share dinner, lounge on their beds doing their own thing, occasionally sharing a thought or two, and it feels…normal. As if the tiny person thing hadn’t happened at all.

How nice it would be to be able to share this, without needing such a traumatizing experience binding them.

Time flies when they’re absorbed in their games and shows, and soon it’s late night. Yuzu hesitates once Shoma is settling into bed.

“I don’t want to pry,” he starts.

Shoma looks at him and smiles wryly. “Oh, but you’ve refrained for so admirably long.”

Yuzu pouts. Shoma laughs a little, scrunching up his nose, and Yuzu wishes for a breathless moment he could preserve that smile in his pocket, if he can’t have Shoma.

“Any updates? Progress?” he says.

Shoma sits back, thoughtful. “Not really. I guess the thing to do is to wait.”

“Wait…for you to feel ready to return to the world?”

“Well. I mean.” Shoma shifts. “I am antsy about it, but it’s not helping this time. So … I am trying to go through different types of feelings, try to see what triggers the return.”

Yuzu hums. It makes sense. Leave it to Shoma to be trying incessantly and quietly behind the scenes.

“I don’t mind,” he says quietly. “Just letting you know. I don’t mind taking care of you.”

Shoma blinks at him without a word.

“I know we never got to be that close,” Yuzu continues, and starts to wonder if he’s doing the right thing. But he wants to be honest. Shoma has given him so much honesty and vulnerability, regardless of how he felt about it. And it must be eating at him to be dependent on Yuzu even as they speak. He wants to offer something in return. “But I’ve always wanted to get to know you better. I’m sorry this isn’t…what you would have ideally liked, but. I’m glad that you trust me enough to let me take care of you.”

Shoma blinks, and says nothing.

Panic begins to rise in Yuzu’s throat. Maybe he should backtrack. Maybe he should say never mind, maybe –

Then Shoma drops his gaze. “I wanted to too,” he whispers, and isn’t this just like Shoma, always giving back in armfuls, generous and brave. “But you left Juniors so early, and…then you were gone overseas. And then you were just. Too…”

“Loud? Obnoxious?”

“Amazing.”

Oh.

Silence stretches, and it’s a restless thing, vibrating with something giddy and terribly hopeful. Yuzu sees Shoma’s hands gripping his sleeves tightly.

“I waited for you, you know,” he dares to whisper.

Shoma looks up, and his eyes are bright with emotion. Yuzu stares in awe.

He wants to rush forward and … touch him, somehow, provide him security and assurance, and then he remembers Mihoko’s strange request from the morning. He gets off of the bed and slowly moves around it. Shoma watches, sitting tightly coiled as if ready to flee.

Yuzu kneels before Shoma, reaches forward, and puts his hand palm down onto the space next to him.

Shoma looks down at the hand. Then looks up at Yuzu. He closes his eyes, and takes in a shaky breath. He slowly leans against Yuzu’s hand, draping an arm lightly around it.

Yuzu doesn’t understand what is going on, but this moment feels like a sliver of ice, fragile and fleeting. He breathes as carefully as he dares, telling his heart to be still as to not scare Shoma away.

Shoma opens his eyes. “I almost fell off the bed earlier,” he murmurs.

Yuzu sucks in a breath.

Shoma smiles, detaches. “I managed to hang on, but…I might be safer on the ground.”

Yuzu immediately goes about spreading the blanket on the floor. He eventually joins him there with his own pillow, after pushing the beds further apart from each other, because he doesn’t want to sleepily swing his feet down in the morning and step on Shoma. He apologizes for not having thought of this sooner – What would Mihoko think, he cringes – but Shoma only laughs. Yuzu makes sure to keep a careful distance away, and settles Shoma above his pillow under the bedside table, safe from Yuzu’s rolling about.

“You can sleep in bed,” Shoma points out once he’s tucked underneath the table. “You can’t step on me if I’m under this thing.”

Yuzu shakes his head. In lieu of good nights, he buries his face in his pillow and peers up at Shoma.

Swathed in his shirt falling about his waist like some sort of Greek god, Shoma props up his head on his elbow and looks at him sideways. “Hi,” he smiles.

Yuzu’s face breaks into an impossible grin. He reaches out a finger to mime patting his hair, and Shoma slaps it away. Yuzu laughs.

“I’m glad you told me,” he murmurs. “I hope you continue to tell me after this is over. Like…things that you need. Things that you don’t like.”

Shoma’s eyes are moving, watching him, calculating. He slowly nods.

Yuzu falls asleep happier than he had in a long time.

 

**To Be Continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this document in my PC: "pocketsho"


	3. Chapter 3

**Heart in a Pocket**

**Part 3**

 

It’s alarming, how familiar and comfortable it feels already, when Yuzu wakes the next morning to a still tiny Shoma sleeping above his head.

He flips onto his belly, chin in his pillow, and watches Shoma sleep. He wonders if all of this is a dream, or if he’s in a madhouse somewhere. And even if everything is real, how much of it is real? The conversations they’ve had, the easy companionship over the past few days, is something Yuzu had never managed to build over the past few years, and not for lack of trying. How much of it is just Shoma reacting instinctively to the sole person that is capable of hurting him? How much of this trust is real?

He reaches out a finger, idly. Shoma wraps his arms around it. Yuzu holds his breath.

Shoma opens his eyes. They’re sleepy slits, bright with the morning sun.

“Morning,” he mumbles. He places his head on top of Yuzu’s finger, snuggles like a pillow. “Enjoying the view?”

Yuzu feels heat climbing up his neck to his ears.

Shoma smiles sleepily, and Yuzu only then realizes that Shoma might have meant … something innocent. Like, watching tiny Shoma and squealing about how cute he is, or something. But.

He feels naked, found out. And he finds that he doesn’t mind.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

Shoma’s eyes slowly clear.

Oh. So he was literally just expecting something along the lines of cute.

Yuzu blushes again.

Shoma murmurs something. Yuzu leans in. “What?”

“I said,” Shoma said, looking away, “you find the weirdest times to say things like that. When I’m like, tiny.”

Yuzu laughs breathlessly. “I guess I never looked closely before.”

Shoma doesn’t answer.

“I mean,” Yuzu corrects, “I never let myself look before.”

The blush is creeping up Shoma’s neck, and oh, this is interesting indeed.

Yuzu nudges Shoma’s hair with his finger. Shoma turns to glower. Yuzu grins, and makes a kissy face. Shoma hides behind Yuzu’s finger resolutely.

Yuzu laughs.

Shoma is thoroughly entertained with his own phone during the day, so Yuzu smiles easily through practice sessions. He comes back in lunchtime to find him half awake, but he blearily insists on eating with Yuzu, so they end up eating together again on the bedside table, Shoma with his tiny utensils. After washing them with bathroom soap, Yuzu goes about cleaning the room, and Shoma watches.

“I just realized that you’ve been locking out the cleaning ladies,” Shoma says. “It must be uncharacteristic of you. Sorry.”

Yuzu glances behind him. “It’s…not a problem? I’m not sure why you’re apologizing?” He grins. “I’d rather have an untouched room with you in it than a clean room without you in it?”

Shoma laughs, a strangled sound.

Yuzu then realizes what that sounded like. He decides not to backtrack.

“Boba?” he asks before leaving for evening practice, and Shoma nods shyly. Yuzu wants to touch his cheeks. But not to pinch. To hold between his hands, to bring his face close, to make that shy smile melt into something else.

He flees the room before he can go into more inappropriate fantasies.

,

,

Keiji beckons to him after rehearsal. “Hey. Let’s talk.”

Yuzu blinks. “Okay?”

Keiji isn’t usually one to talk. He listens to Yuzu blather. Partly because he’s kind, partly because he’s got the patience of a saint, and largely because he is often in situations where he can’t escape Yuzu. Yuzu shamelessly abuses this fact.

Keiji rolls his eyes when Yuzu voices this thought as a flow-of-consciousness fact about life between them. “You are the worst kind of friend.”

“But you still love me.” Yuzu sticks out his lips.

“Believe me, it’s very much a love-hate relationship,” Keiji deadpans. “Mostly hate.”

Yuzu grabs his head and makes to kiss his cheek, so Keiji flails in horror. The other skaters glance at them from a distance, so Yuzu grins and detaches. Keiji falls away, looking for the world like he wants to vomit.

“What are you so keyed up about?” Yuzu eyes him. “Do you have love problems?”

Yuzu is very open to love problems. Unfortunately no one comes to him for advice, because his relationship with love is nonexistent. Keiji would know this. But Yuzu likes to ask anyway, because trolling Keiji is his second favorite thing to do with the Japanese elite level skaters, the first being following Shoma around.

It’s not his fault; Shoma and Keiji are the only ones he’s always with during international competitions. It’s not like he can troll Shoma, because he’s too precious for that.

He pushes down that thought.

“Actually,” Keiji hesitates. “Listen, have you heard from Shoma lately?”

“…no?”

Keiji looks thoughtful. “He’s not answering his texts, and it’s… I mean, it’s not uncharacteristic of him. But I thought… I got worried.”

“And why would he text me?” Yuzu says smoothly. “He’s closer to you than me.”

Keiji looks at him weirdly. “You don’t… I mean. He, uh, esteems you a lot more than you think.”

Yuzu preens, just a little bit. It’s not hard; Shoma is very generous with praise. He even stands right there next to him and goes on and on about how great Yuzu is without even batting an eye, and Yuzu has to squirm in secondhand embarrassment because why does Shoma suddenly turn not-shy when he’s praising someone else?

“Cool,” he manages to answer. “So. Uh. No? What’s going on with him?”

Keiji shifts. “Shoma is … easy to worry about.”

Yuzu has to concede that it’s true. He would probably fall asleep on the toilet during an ice show if no one checked up on him regularly. Or go to the wrong city, or wear someone else’s costume, or wear his costume inside out or…

But Keiji has no idea how mature and strong Shoma really is in the face of truly important things, Yuzu thinks proudly. Suck it, Keiji.

“We had, uh,” Keiji sighs. “We had a difficult conversation before he left for vacation.”

Yuzu feels breath leave his lungs. “Is it a love problem?” he rushes, and Keiji rolls his eyes.

“Why is everything a love problem for you?”

“Because I don’t have any and I want to live vicariously.”

“What happened to gossiping about which girls are hot?”

“Well, you don’t do it anymore.”

“You stopped first. I still do it with Fei.”

Yuzu purses his lips.

Keiji fidgets. “This is… probably not the best place to be having this conversation.”

“Where should we be having this conversation then?” Yuzu’s voice comes out tighter than he had intended. “In the locker room?”

Keiji looks at him in surprise. Yuzu hangs his head. “Sorry. I.” He runs a hand down his face. “I just. I heard you talking about it in the interview and I just. I missed you guys.”

“You’re still welcome,” Keiji says gently. “You’ve just been busy. Hey, why don’t we go to a café somewhere?”

Yuzu flashes his teeth. “That sounds like a date.”

“Are you saying you don’t even want to take me out for a date?” Keiji deadpans. “After all those monstrous hours of me listening to you wax poetic about the beauty of the quad salchow and Shoma’s eyes? Don’t even get me started on Shoma’s--”

Yuzu grabs Keiji’s arm so fast that he loses his balance. “Shut up, let’s go.”

,

,

Turns out that they don’t end up talking about Shoma’s eyes after all. Or much of anything. Keiji seems content to sit and silently slurp on his drink, because Yuzu is quiet for once, horrified at the realization that apparently he likes to wax poetic about Shoma’s eyes. To Keiji.

Quad Lutz have mercy.

“So,” Keiji says at last. “Which girls ARE hot?”

Yuzu frowns. “That’s immature.”

Keiji laughs. “You’re one to say!”

“Hey. I stopped!”

“Because you stopped finding them hot?” Keiji looks at him, dark eyes boring into his soul. “Who IS hot?”

Yuzu stares back. Are they really having this conversation? Sitting in an elegant café, the two of them well into their twenties, gossiping about who is hot and who is not?

“Shoma,” he deadpans, “Shoma is hot.”

Keiji spits out his drink.

“Gross, Keiji.”

“Wow.” Keiji coughs and reaches for a napkin, and waves away Yuzu’s offer to smack his back. “I never thought you’d straight out say it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Keiji says, facing down his drink, “what does it mean, Yuzu?”

Yuzu stares at Keiji. Keiji slurps.

“Why are we having this conversation?” he says at last. “What did you tell Shoma before he went away?” He sits up, horrified. “Is that why he – wait, are you saying he ran away to this so-called vacation because of what you said? What did you say? Did you tell him anything incriminating about me? I swear to god and all the onmyojis dead or alive, Keiji, if you--”

Keiji shoves Yuzu’s straw into his open mouth, forcing him to reflexively take a sip. “Breathe, dude.”

Yuzu glares.

“Look,” Keiji says. “I just wanna know one thing. I have suspected, but I want to know for sure.” He looks up at Yuzu, piercing and sure. “I know you’ve stopped dating for a few years now, but.”

“But?” Yuzu’s gut knots. He has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“Would you ever pick it up again? Dating…boys?”

Yuzu hides his hands under the table. “Why do you need to know?” his voice comes out tighter than he wanted. He swallows.

Keiji looks at him, and then away, out the window. “I didn’t tell anyone anything,” he says softly. “I just… I worry about you, Yuzu, as a friend. You don’t let yourself have things you want.” He looks back at Yuzu. “It’s okay to let yourself have things you want. It’s okay to… live a little.”

“How does this relate to Shoma?” Yuzu’s hands are shaking. He entwines them tightly under the table. “What did you tell Shoma?”

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Keiji reaches under the table, like a homing beacon, and grabs Yuzu’s hands. “I just asked him the same question I’m asking you.”

Yuzu stares at his drink. It’s very green. Was it green tea? It maybe had milk in it. Shoma likes milk, right? It’s foamy and white and… and…

“It’s your last ice tour as an amateur, isn’t it?” Keiji says quietly. “I think… maybe you should let go a little. You’re finished. Skating is great, but isn’t it supposed to be about enjoying life?”

“I do enjoy life,” Yuzu grits out, squeezing Keiji’s hand.

“Then maybe,” Keiji says, looking straight at Yuzu, “try facing your own love problems.”

Yuzu watches numbly as Keiji rises. “I’m done here,” Keiji says, decidedly, as if to himself. “I can’t believe I had to resort to this. I’m gonna kill that little brat.” He leaves, mumbling something about giving someone a good beating, and Yuzu is left staring at the napkins wisp at the draft of the door.

,

,

Shoma is sleeping when Yuzu gets to his room after practice. Yuzu puts down the food and boba, leans against the side of his bed, and watches Shoma breathe.

Little Shoma used to suffer from asthma. He was so small and frail, practically living in hospitals. Yuzu remembers watching Shoma struggle as he came up to Seniors. He could barely breathe after finishing a program. And yet so quick to reassure everyone that he’s okay, when he’s obviously not.

Maybe it comes from always being surrounded by worried people. Yuzu knows what that’s like. His pain is not only his own. It affects people around him, and he knows what it’s like to watch wrinkles and creases on his mother’s face as she watches him struggle to breathe. Yuzu wonders what else Shoma struggles with. What else does he cover up with a smile to tell people that he’s okay?

He wants to be the person who knows things that are not okay in Shoma’s life. He wants it, so badly, and it’s so wrong.

But why is it wrong? A traitorous voice whispers.

Shoma is no longer a fawning junior. He’s a senior, a champion in his own right, with a legion of followers. He’s stronger than Yuzu. He might be shy and sweet, but when it matters, Yuzu can’t think of anyone he’d rather rely on.

What did Shoma say to Keiji? Did Keiji bring up Yuzu in the conversation, as he brought up Shoma in his conversation with Yuzu? What was it that Mihoko was not telling him? Is he overthinking it? Is he just fantasizing about the things he wants, not things as they are?

He looks at tiny Shoma with his tiny hands, wispy hair, and he just wants, and wants, and wants.

He hugs his knees and buries his face in them.

He’s used to wanting things. But he’s also used to not being able to have things he wants. Gold medals were the only things he was allowed to go after. The only compensation he got for giving up everything else. He’s not used to the idea that it’s okay to want. That he might even get what he wants.

It’s a terrifying thought.

“Yuzu?”

Yuzu starts. Shoma is blinking sleepily at him, cheek smooshed against his pillow. “What’s the matter?”

His eyes are so bright. Yuzu stares at them, and the earnestness in those eyes hit him like a punch to the chest. He makes a small, breathless noise.

He’s in so much trouble.

Shoma scrambles up in alarm. “Are you okay? Should I,” he looks around. “Do you need me to get anything?”

As if tiny little Shoma could do something for him. Yuzu smiles at the thought. Knowing Shoma, he’d find a way. Maybe the desperation could even drive him to return to original size. Maybe… maybe…

He jumps to his feet. “I forgot to buy you clothes. I’ll be back.”

He runs out before Shoma can protest.

,

,

 

“I’m flying!” Shoma laughs.

“Yay!” Yuzu squeals.

He takes large, slow steps around the room, making airplane noises. Shoma is tucked away in his sweatshirt pocket, arms hanging out for a better view – he is apparently fearless when it comes to heights – as Yuzu holds him stable with a protective hand over the pocket.

Shoma is dressed in doll clothes he’d bought for him - and even washed in the bathroom and dried out with a hairdryer. He looks like a little sailor boy in his striped shirt and shorts.

They brush their teeth together, Shoma with an eyebrow brush Yuzu had bought from a convenience store, and uses the dollhouse mug to spit out water. Yuzu keeps his eyes on Shoma as he struggles with the floss. He had plugged the sink, just in case Shoma slips, but one can never be too careful. He offers to help brush his hair, and Shoma allows him to run another eyebrow brush carefully through his locks.

Shoma had even taken a bath, using small sampler cups from the café downstairs that Yuzu had filled with warm water and a drop of soap before leaving for practice. The thought of it tickles Yuzu like nothing else. He wants to keep Shoma here forever.

They curl up on the same bed, watching Shoma beat a game level by flailing his arms, while Yuzu laughs and occasionally helps by pressing the screen with a finger.

After depositing Shoma into his nook, Yuzu lies on the floor again, smiling through his pillow.

“You look happy,” Shoma says, eyes flickering with light.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile so much,” Shoma pauses, “recently.”

Yuzu’s smile dims. Shoma watches apprehensively, and for that, Yuzu smiles again. “I guess taking care of you makes me happy.”

Shoma narrows his eyes. “Have you thought about a career in babysitting?”

Yuzu laughs into his pillow. He leans his face sideways, stretches out his arms into Shoma’s space. Shoma drapes himself over Yuzu’s hand, and draws idle figures on his skin.

“I know it’s bad,” Yuzu says quietly. “You must be terrified. I shouldn’t be so happy about it.”

Shoma shakes his head. “I told you. I’d rather you be happy about it than both of us be miserable about it.”

Yuzu frowns. “I don’t want you to be miserable though.”

“I’m not.” Shoma looks down. “Seeing you so happy makes me… less miserable.”

Yuzu stares at Shoma. He’s not smiling, but that’s because he’s being honest. It’s the bravest thing he can do for Yuzu, showing him utter vulnerability, and he doesn’t know how to answer this trust. His heart bubbles over, and he can’t hold it back anymore.

He brings his other hand closer, and carefully wraps a finger around Shoma’s back. It’s the closest thing to a hug he can give. “Shoma,” he whispers. “I – I have to tell you something. When you’re back to yourself.”

Shoma blinks slowly.

“Can you – can we talk? When I’m not…hovering over you like a giant? I’ve wanted to… for a long time but.”

Shoma doesn’t answer. He slowly nods, not looking at Yuzu, and Yuzu’s heart feels as if it’s going to burst. It already feels like a yes.

That night, he falls asleep with his arm outstretched, Shoma’s arm wrapped around his finger.

,

,

All the skaters are gathered the next day, ready to start official rehearsal. The evening is apparently an on-ice meet and greet, followed by a welcome party, to celebrate the union of the whole cast. The last of them have arrived, and there will apparently be drinks. Yuzu, as always, bows out. He’d feel glum about it, but he’s antsy to get to his room where he had left Shoma in bed with a hot meal by his side. He practically skips to his room, and bites down a smile as he opens the door.

“I brought your other favorite boba!” he announces, closing the door behind him.

Shoma isn’t on his makeshift bed.

Yuzu looks around. He’s not on the human beds either. He puts down the drink and the food, telling himself to be calm. He walks carefully, looking beneath his feet, as he bends over and looks beneath the beds. Walks to the bathroom. Checks behind the shower curtains. The toilet. Upturns the garbage bins, opens the microwave, every desk drawer, throws the covers off the beds, spills out the contents of all of his bags.

All the miniature utensils are gone. Every trace of tiny Shoma is missing. As if they weren’t ever there.

“Shoma?” he whispers. He bangs the door open, runs out into the empty hallway. “Shoma!”

Shoma is gone.

 

**To Be Continued**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, life has been as usual and therefore I veered back into angst territory?  
> Comments are appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Heart in a Pocket**

**Part 4**

 

Mihoko has apparently left town on some urgent business. So Yuzu pounds on Shoma’s door instead. There is only silence.

Yuzu paces, wandering up and down the hotel halls, and eventually breaks down. He calls Keiji.

“Did you drink?” Keji says when Yuzu asks him where Shoma is. “He’s on vacation. You knew this.”

Yuzu considers fessing up, but that won’t change the fact that Keiji doesn’t know where Shoma is. He hangs up, paces his room, buries his face in his pillow. He gets up and looks around again, checks the bathroom, looks for any trace of Shoma having been here.

Nothing.

Did he dream the whole thing? Is he drunk? Is he still not awake yet? He paces and paces.

He shows up to breakfast the next morning, dark and tired, having gotten zero hours of sleep. He sits at the breakfast hall, watching everyone like a hawk. No one questions it, as they’re in varying degrees of hung over.

Shoma isn’t there. Instead, Mihoko is laughing with another coach, and he barely manages to contain himself until she heads out of the breakfast hall. He ambushes her around the corner.

“Where is Shoma?” He’s a shaking, babbling mess. “Is he okay? He’s gone, I couldn’t find him, everything’s gone, and I don’t know if I dreamed everything or but then you-” he flaps his arms. “Is he okay?” he ends, desperately.

She blinks at him. “He’s fine. He came back from vacation last night.”

He stares at her.

She takes him by the elbow, taking pity, and leads him up to Shoma’s room. She knocks softly, knowing that he won’t answer, and uses her spare card key to enter.

Yuzu almost bowls her over as they enter. Shoma is lying on his bed, face down, as if he had collapsed on his feet. That’s…also how he always sleeps.

“There he is,” Mihoko whispers with a fond smile. “He’s probably tired.”

Yuzu gapes at him.

“Did you have something urgent?” she eyes him. “Shall I wake him?”

He jerks away. “No. No. I’m fine. I’m just. I’m glad he’s good. Safe. That’s good. I’m good.” He convulsively bows, over and over, as he backs out of the room. He only realizes he’s shaking when he closes his own door shut behind him, and slides to the floor.

The room feels so empty.

It’s good, he tells himself. Don’t be selfish.

The words hold no water. He knows he’s a selfish person. And he wants Shoma in here, in his space, telling Yuzu honestly how he feels, what he wants, letting Yuzu pamper him.

He wants.

He buries his face in his hands. Rehearsal is going to be impossible today.

,

,

Shoma shows up in the evening rehearsal, looking sleepy. Yuzu sees him and pounces. “Where were you?” he demands.

Shoma looks up, and politely bobs his head. Yuzu’s chest feels punched out.

“I was on vacation,” Shoma says. “My family was traveling nearby so I went to see them for a few days before we started the show officially.”

Yuzu stares at him.

Shoma fidgets. “Is…everything okay?” He looks up at him, so earnest and kind, and Yuzu doesn’t know what to say. He then notices Keiji watching them.

Oh.

Yuzu jerks away, and takes Shoma’s arm with him.

Shoma looks increasingly agitated as Yuzu pushes him against the boards in a dark corner of the rink. “Shoma,” Yuzu hisses. “Where were you?”

“What?”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought you got flushed down the toilet! Or got hurt, or someone came and kidnapped you!”

Shoma blinks owlishly. “Why would you think that? I’m small, but I’m not that small.”

Yuzu’s gut twists. “Shoma, please tell me you’re joking.”

Shoma knits his brows together, scanning him up and down, and peers around him to check for the others. “Yuzu, are you okay? You don’t look like you slept much.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t sleep, because I was worried about you!” Yuzu hisses. “You were tiny! I thought you got stomped on!”

“What?”

“You got like, this small?” Yuzu gestures with his fingers. “And I put you in a pocket and flew you around the room?”

Shoma stares. “Um.”

“I brought you boba!”

“…thanks?”

“Please tell me it was real.”

“I’m sorry.” Shoma pats his shoulder. “I think you need some more sleep. It wasn’t real.”

Then he skates away to Keiji, and Yuzu is left feeling stranded on the ice.

,

,

The shows begin, and everything is a blur. It should feel exhilarating, satisfying, all the good things he can think of. But all he can feel is the bitter disappointment and the strange hollow feeling of seeing Shoma bow at him, laugh politely at his jokes, remembering how it wasn’t like that. At least in the brief madness of his own mind, it wasn’t.

He can build it up again. He can.

He goes to Shoma, sticks to his side like before, tells him jokes. Shoma reacts as before: laughs, talks back sometimes, nods.

Nothing has changed.

Yuzu thrums with tension, unnamed frustration building in his joints. He jumps and jumps during practice, axel after axel, and spins with a vengeance. He bows out of group dinner, goes to his room, and throws himself onto the bed.

Maybe he had imagined the whole thing. Maybe he had let his feelings run away. Maybe Shoma and Mihoko are right; it wasn’t real. Maybe the uncertainty of getting out of amateur skating had gotten to him. Maybe… maybe…

He jumps up from the bed and paces.

Does it matter? Was it real? And does it matter if it was real? He wonders. Is his way of seeing Shoma different now? Would it have been different? What if he had only been enamored with the heady feeling of power?

He stares at his bed. He remembers Shoma being there, laughing and smiling, and his chest constricts.

He leaves his room and stalks the hallway. He tries to convince himself that it’s an accident, but he knows better. He had come straight to Shoma’s room. He stands there, hand raised for a knock, and can’t bring himself to do it.

He stands there until his legs are stiff, and finally whirls around and returns to his room and throws himself into bed.

He is such a fool.

,

,

**To Be Continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this story as a joke to myself. And was going to finish it as a cute little light fluff within 3 chapters max.   
> What am I doing? ahhhhhh


	5. Part 5

**Heart in a Pocket**

**Part 5**

“What did you do to Shoma?” Keiji corners him after practice.

Yuzu looks up defiantly. “Me? To Shoma? You have no idea--” he stops as Shoma passes by, swept up by a gaggle of older women. “Why do you think I did something to him?”

“Because it’s always you.” Keiji narrows his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yuzu glares up at him while yanking out his laces.

Keiji sits down next to him. “I caught him skating alone last night.”

Oh.

Shoma does that when he’s got a lot on his mind. Yuzu has other ways of letting out stress. Shoma has only one way, and that’s through silent, relentless, jaw-clenched skating. Yuzu looks guiltily back at the door where Shoma has disappeared.

“He was pretty upset, Yuzu. What happened?”

“Why would he be upset?” Yuzu stares down at his boots. “It’s not like he’s the one that got rejected.”

“He rejected you?” Keiji’s voice grows. Yuzu elbows Keiji. The locker room is thankfully empty. Keiji looks around and lowers his voice. “He rejected you?” he whisper-yells.

“Well.” Yuzu sulks. “Not in so many words, but. You know.”

Keiji narrows his eyes. “Did you even try?”

Yuzu looks up at him. Keiji doesn’t understand. Yuzu was going to do it, he really was – but then everything had reset with Shoma and they had gone back to what they were, friendly competitors and senior and junior and just –

He can’t go back to that soft place of whispers and confessions when Shoma is shining like that, laughing, surrounded by women who dote on him. Shoma had let him into a space only between them, a place of quiet, and now it’s gone.

Keiji won’t understand.

He stuffs his feet into his sneakers and packs up his skates. “It doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “It’s not real.”

“What’s not real?”

Keiji doesn’t move. He’s kind of standing in the way and Yuzu could… just go around him. But. He’s standing in the way, so he can’t. So.

“Yuzu.” Keiji sighs. “I know you are kind of a huge idiot, but you do realize that you’re three years older, right?”

Yuzu looks up resentfully. What’s that supposed to mean? “Shoma is a lot more mature than we think,” he points out.

Keiji rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he’s also a really shy kid.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?”

Yuzu bites down his answer, because Shoma’s secret is not his to tell. So he glares instead.

Keiji is, unfortunately, one of the few people who are unmoved by Yuzu’s glares. “Be the senior for once, dude.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. What’s not real, Yuzu?”

Yuzu looks away, deflating. “A dream I had,” he mumbles.

“A what now?” Keiji leans in.

“I had a dream about Shoma,” Yuzu says loudly, hating how dumb it sounds. “Shoma told me it’s not real.”

Keiji looks at him long and hard. “Oh, Yuzu.” He then reaches out, looking a world older, and ruffles Yuzu’s hair. “You deserve all your love problems.”

He leaves Yuzu to sulk alone.

,

,

They pack up to go to the next city. The hotel is abuzz, the whole floor filled with skaters running around with bags, all their doors thrown open as they scurry about and event organizers shout announcements and hand out forgotten belongings. Yuzu is an exception as he is to everything: neat and clean and ready to go. He wanders the hall, helping others clean up, and eventually reaches Shoma’s door to see the same mess: a disheveled head of hair bobbing about, scraping things off the floor, dumping them into a bag, scrambling to find one lost thing or another.

“Need help?” He pokes his head in.

Shoma jumps. “Oh! Oh. No. Thank you, I’m almost done.”

He doesn’t look close to done. But Yuzu takes the refusal for what it is. He leans back out, then pauses.

There’s a familiar shirt balled up inside an open suitcase. He carefully steps in, checking to see Shoma busy packing up toiletries in the bathroom. He nudges the bundle open.

It’s his shirt. The one he lent to Shoma to use as a blanket.

He opens it all the way. Nestled inside is a collection of doll-sized utensils. The tiny mug and plates knock together, and Yuzu covers it all back up so fast that he barely breathes, and snaps back to his feet and is out the door, shaking, before Shoma comes back to finish packing.

,

,

When they arrive at the next city, they have the day off to unpack and unwind. Most of the skaters go off in groups to eat and drink. Yuzu declines the invitations, eats alone, and waits. He knows Shoma will be alone in his room too.

Shoma answers the door, looking bleary. “Oh, Yuzu.” He blinks. “What’s up?”

It’s rather late for him. Yuzu refuses to feel guilty. “You promised we’d talk.”

Shoma’s eyes clear instantly. “What?”

Yuzu watches him, cataloguing, adding another evidence to stack onto his tower of attacks to later buckle Shoma’s lies in one swipe. Shoma might be good at games, but Yuzu deals exclusively in victories. “Can I come in?”

Shoma glances back at his messy room, looking panicked. He looks back at Yuzu. When he realizes that Yuzu hasn’t somehow disappeared, he slowly backs away and stands aside.

Yuzu enters like a warrior going to battle, and perches on a computer chair. Shoma slowly sinks into his bed, looking uncomfortable.

“You haven’t had any more episodes, right?” Yuzu says.

Shoma entwines his fingers on his lap. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Where are the things I bought you?” Yuzu looks around. “Did you keep them? Did you throw them away?”

“What things?” Shoma says at his hands. He still can’t keep eye contact through a lie, Yuzu notes with bitter triumph.

He stands, suddenly sure. He swerves around Shoma’s bed and starts pacing.

“See, Shoma, I’ve thought about this. I’ve thought about it a lot.” He doesn’t look at Shoma. “Why would he lie? I asked myself. Because I know you hate to lie, and you’re terrible at it anyway. So why would you be so invested in going out of your way to lie? I came up with a few theories.” He stops, stares at Shoma. His eyes are wide, gaze riveted on the floor.

“One, you don’t know that it hurts me. That, I can correct. I do care, and it does hurt.”

Shoma’s fingers twitch.

“Two, you don’t trust me. You think I am dangerous and cannot be trusted with your secret. That, I can prove wrong. I came this close to telling Keiji, because I thought I was going crazy and I was so worried, but. I didn’t.”

Shoma’s hands clench tighter.

“Three, you are scared. Because you care and it might hurt you. That, I can do my best to try to fix.” Yuzu stops, looks down. “Which is it? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’ll make the guesses myself. But it will be better if you tell me, because if I’m wrong, I might make the wrong move.”

Seconds tick by like an infinite stretch. Yuzu prepares the finishing blow.

“You knew what I was going to talk about. You knew.” Shoma looks so very small, hunched on his bed. Yuzu pushes on, forcefully, against his instinct to encircle Shoma in his arms. He can’t give Shoma time to deliberate, articulate counter-arguments. “You knew and you ran away.”

Shoma doesn’t move. Time to go in for the kill.

“Was it a dream?” He takes a large step toward Shoma, and drops to a knee. He wraps careful hands around Shoma’s white-knuckled fists. He softens his voice. “Tell me it was real,” he whispers.

Shoma finally moves, and it’s to pull his hands away.

Yuzu feels kicked in the chest.

“I’m sorry.” Shoma straightens, once again a polite junior. “You like to take care of me, and it showed in your dream. You think I’m a cute little kid, and that’s probably what the dream was about. Maybe you were stressed and you wanted a semblance of control. I don’t know.” He looks at Yuzu, smiles apologetically. “It was a dream, Yuzu.”

Every gentle word is like acid on his heart. “You’re lying.”

“Yuzu-”

“I don’t know why you’re running away from me.” Heat rises from Yuzu’s gut, swelling up to his chest. “I don’t know if it’s something I did, or-” Shoma flinches, “if you decided that it wasn’t worth it. But nothing changed for me. It didn’t change anything. I still-”

“Yuzu-”

“-wanted to tell you-”

“If I really am that small,” Shoma cuts, “of course you’re going to take care of me. There was no other way that could have played out, dream or otherwise.” He looks away and rises. “I’m sorry. I think… maybe I’m not the best person to be consulting about dreams.”

Yuzu rises with him. “I asked you to talk after, because you didn’t have a choice.” He feels as if the ice is slipping beneath his feet. It’s as uncomfortable as a jarring fall, and he flails for grip. “You’re right. It was driven by circumstance and I hated that. You didn’t have a choice and I didn’t want to push that on you.”

Shoma goes to the door. “Listen, I think-”

“I told you I’d wait for you.” Yuzu’s voice rises in desperation. “I was still waiting for you!”

Shoma’s step falters.

Yuzu follows him, quick to seize his chance. “I couldn’t – Shoma, I couldn’t. Not while you were so small and dependent on me.” Yuzu grabs Shoma’s shoulder and feels Shoma still. Desperate hope plows him forward. “You were so young. I didn’t let myself think about it. I didn’t know that you could possibly-”

Shoma jerks away, grabs the doorknob.

Yuzu’s hand hangs in the air where Shoma’s arm had just been. The loss of warmth feels like a hole in his chest, and the sting of the rejection spreads like venom in his veins.

He’s losing Shoma. And he can’t, he can’t lose him, not now. Not after all these years.

“If I can prove it, would you talk to me?”

Shoma’s shoulders stiffen.

Yuzu steps closer, the triumph feeling heavy like lead. Something inevitable is happening, and he walks into it with grim resolve as destruction looms ahead. He had launched his attack, all guns blazing and all tact employed, and yet Shoma hadn’t fallen. Then Yuzu will have to destroy this farce of a game itself.

He glances at Shoma’s bag in the corner. “It’s in there, isn’t it? All the stuff I gave you.”

Shoma finally turns, his face icy white.

Checkmate.

“Go ahead.” Shoma looks at Yuzu, eyes bright like glass. “Search through my things. Prove to me whatever you came to prove.”

Something in Yuzu’s gut sinks. He had forgotten – he had completely left Shoma out of the equation. He had overlooked Shoma’s feelings in this altogether. Had forgotten that Shoma, kind and sweet as he is, is a fiery competitor and hates losing. That if pushed, Shoma might push back. That Shoma, in fact, is capable of getting angry.

He’s angry now. And it’s a horrible thing, because he’s still calm, stormy wrath hidden beneath his steady veneer of politeness.

“Shall I do it for you? Look.” Shoma goes to his overflowing hard-shell luggage, and with a flip of an arm, upturns the whole thing. Items fall out like heavy rain, flooding to the floor. “Here, this is my training gear.” He goes through his things with deft hands. “These are casual clothes for daytime. Most of these are things I find in my drawers without knowing where they come from. I assume my mother gets them for me.”

He kicks his things apart, letting the items spill out into further disarray, like guts spilling in a horrific display. Yuzu feels sick.

“These are books I read sometimes when my phone goes dead,” Shoma goes on, relentless. “Oh, and these are bathroom things. Do you want to check?” Before Yuzu can stop him, he tears open the toiletry bag, letting items fall violently onto his bed. Toothbrush and toothpaste, razor, hair gel, other such items. “Do you want to know where I got these from too?”

This is all wrong. It’s all going wrong. Yuzu reaches for his hand. “No, Shoma, no-”

“Oh, maybe this is what you’re looking for.” Shoma bends down and viciously scoops up a pile of fabric. “Here, I have your shirt. I meant to give it back, but here you are.” He holds it out. “Oh, it’s got a bunch of little doll things inside. I hope your niece likes it. Tell her it’s from me. Shall I tell you where I got them?”

“Shoma, please.” Yuzu clasps Shoma’s hand into both of his. “Please.”

Shoma pulls away. “Get out.”

“Shoma-”

“Get out!” Shoma shouts.

His eyes are glazed with tears.

Yuzu stands at the mess in Shoma’s room, realizes that there is no more destruction he could possibly wrack if he tried. He wants to pull Shoma’s shaking shoulders into his, but it’s not his place.

He leaves.

,

,

**To Be Continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the long wait. And for those of you waiting for Coming Home updates, I'm sorry. I'd been literally working around the clock without even a food break except three hours of sleep for some time. I hope this update is enough to satisfy for a little while. 
> 
> Thank you all for your feedback! I adore all of them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Heart in a Pocket**

**Part 6**

 

 

Yuzu stays awake all night, tossing and turning. Shoma’s tears, the look of betrayal, his hoarse shouting, all haunt him incessantly and he knows that sleep is a lost cause.

He sits up, covers his face, and breathes hotly into his hands.

He’s not going to cry. He has no right to cry. Shoma has every right to be angry with him. If gentle Shoma got angry, it’s as solid a proof as the stars in the sky that Yuzu did something wrong.

Oh gods, he made Shoma cry.

He stares up at the dark ceiling. Maybe it’s a good thing that they moved hotels; if he were sleeping alone in the same room that Shoma was sharing with him, he isn’t sure he won’t go insane.

How can someone fall in love so quickly? He laughs hollowly at himself. Pathetic, he whispers, but he knows that’s not fair. He hadn’t fallen in love over a few days.

It’s just not been apparent until now. What a fool he was, wasting such a precious gift that Shoma had shared with him. He hadn’t just wasted it; he ran up a volcano and tossing it into the fire.

He was so sure that Shoma was simply scared of reaching out. He was willing to be the villain, bulldozing through Shoma’s defenses so Shoma wouldn’t have to, to meet him where he was vulnerable. To show him that he would not easily be turned away by simple fears, to show that he would fight for Shoma. He was willing to wrack violence because he was trying to destroy those walls that Shoma was too afraid to tear down.

But maybe, maybe. He was just destroying Shoma.

Now he understands what Shoma meant about it being under circumstances. Shoma wasn’t talking about Yuzu; he was talking about himself. It wasn’t about trusting Yuzu; it was about feeling safe. And Yuzu went and made him feel even more violated. Yuzu’s throat tightens at the thought.

How could he have been so selfish? He had gone on a rampage, brandishing his own feelings like a weapon, without a care for how Shoma was shoved aside.

He buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t deserve Shoma.

This thought condenses into a fact when he goes to practice in dread the next day, prepared with a long speech of apology, and finds Shoma laughing at something Keiji is saying while they lean against the boards. He’s opening a water bottle, eyes wandering mindlessly through the rink, when he sees Yuzu. He downs his water, says something to Keiji, and leaves the ice.

Yuzu stands there, feeling hollow.

But he is nothing if not determined, so he tries again during rehearsal. But Shoma is always at the other end of the room, laughing as Mura and Taka correct him on choreo sequences, and Yuzu catches himself fumbling while staring. How can Shoma smile and laugh so brightly after what happened the previous night? Was that also a dream?

He feels as if he’s going crazy.

Then they run into each other on the ice because they have a number together, but Shoma doesn’t look him in the eye. He’s staring at his collarbone as he nods quickly and looks away, busily taking in the choreographer’s instructions, and when Yuzu reaches out as a reflex to catch him when he slips through a landing, he jerks away as if burned.

And it extends into the performance. Each time he turns, Shoma is gone. Instead it’s Keiji, or Sota, or Kazuki, or –

He takes bows at the center, reaching for Shoma as always, and Shoma’s radiant smile is replaced by Nobu making kissy faces at him, and Yuzu decides he’s had enough.

“Wait,” he says as he blocks Shoma’s escape in the locker room. Shoma backs away, looking like a hunted animal. “Shoma, please. Wait.”

Shoma stares under his spread arms as Yuzu braces his hands against the narrow corridor out of the locker rows. For a moment, Yuzu expects him to make a run for it under his arm, and entertains the ridiculous notion of catching him.

But then Shoma meets Yuzu’s eyes, and Yuzu sees Shoma resolved to stay. He’s guarded, large eyes sharp and bright, his stance hard. He turns away from Yuzu and unzips his costume all the way down the back.

Yuzu rips his gaze away. Shy, my ass, he grinds silently at the memory of Keiji.

“I didn’t mean to,” he starts, weakly, and doesn’t like that at all. “I mean. I did. But I shouldn’t have,” he tries again, and doesn’t like that much better. He had a plan for this, dammit. He just hadn’t expected Shoma to throw a wrench into it by stripping naked in front of him. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

Shoma turns to Yuzu then, hair sticking out all over the place. The costume is halfway off, tangled up in his hands and wrists, and his chest is rippling with muscle, and wow, Shoma has really broad shoulders –

Yuzu mentally slaps himself.

“What were you pushing me for?” Shoma arches a brow.

Yuzu stares at his feet, at a loss for words.

Shoma sighs, and strips down all the way. “It’s fine. You didn’t push me for anything.” He zips up his next costume and pushes his way past Yuzu’s arm and leaves.

And Yuzu stands like a fool, replaying Shoma’s naked shoulders and chest and hip bone over and over again until he goes to his room and pulls out his hair like a deranged person.

Next day, Shoma isn’t in rehearsal at all. “He’s on a medical break,” Mihoko says flippantly. “You know, asthma and all. You know what it’s like.” She pats him on the arm and leaves.

Yuzu sits in a daze long after she’s gone, staring into the ice.

Hiding his asthma. Hiding his feelings. Hiding all these things that make people worry. Hiding the things about himself that make him a burden. Letting Yuzu trample on him. Trusting Yuzu not to.

He had broken everything, hadn’t he.

Keiji finds Yuzu curled up alone on the bench long after everyone has left. “Dude. What are you doing here? We thought you were coming to group dinner.”

His voice dies in his throat when Yuzu raises his eyes.

“Hey.” Keiji reaches down and wipes Yuzu’s cheek. Yuzu’s eyes rapidly fill with tears again.

“I messed up,” Yuzu croaks. “I’m such an idiot. You helped me and I still messed up.”

Keiji sinks down onto the bench and wraps an arm around Yuzu’s shoulder. Yuzu collapses into Keiji’s chest like a broken doll.

“He gave me so much,” he hiccups, “I just went and threw it away. I took advantage and I hurt him. I hurt him so much and now he hates me. He hates me, Keiji,” he chokes, “what do I do.”

Keiji squeezes him. “He does not hate you.”

“Why not? I would hate me. I’m a mess.” Yuzu wails. “I betrayed his trust. Gods, Keiji, I hate myself.”

“Hey, hey, none of that. Okay?” Keiji wipes his tears again. “None of your teenage angst stuff.”

Yuzu buries his head in Keiji’s arms. “You don’t know what I did,” he sobs. “I made him cry. I made him mad. I, Shoma shouted at me.” He cringes at how pathetic that sounds, and his sobs break anew.

Keiji strokes Yuzu’s hair. “Wow. Shoma crying AND getting angry. You’re setting all kinds of records here.”

Yuzu weakly punches his chest. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” Keiji sighs. “You poor idiots.”

He holds Yuzu as he sobs into his shirt. And stands guard at the changing room while Yuzu washes out his snot and tears, and turns away the others who come looking for him. Keiji is a good friend.

,

,

**To Be Continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so short! Figured it was better to put out a short one than none at all for the foreseeable future.
> 
> Also, yes, I have completely derailed from my original short and sweet fluff trajectory. Apparently angst is my life. Kill me.


End file.
